Robot Love
by jsk
Summary: Seven of Nine is somewhat lost after the crew of the Voyager return to Earth


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DISCLAIMER: "Star Trek" is the copyrighted by Paramount, and Paramount  
owns Star Trek and the Star Trek Universe. The following story is   
not-for-profit.  
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Robot Love  
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(c) Jasjit Singh, December 1999  
  
Seven of Nine was bewildered. After the initial breifing, which had  
lasted over eight hours, the crew of Voyager separated and rejoined with  
their loved ones; family, lovers, and friends. One by one, she saw them  
pair off and leave. It seemed that everyone had someone. Even young  
Naomi Wildman had found a friend, a young human boy who was intensely  
curious about her ridged forehead, and hung around her all the time.  
  
Finally, in an act of exasperation and rebuttal, Seven of Nine had sought  
out the mess hall and now sat there, hunched over a strange Earth cocktail  
that she had not sampled yet. It was irrelevant. This was a good place  
to hide. During her time on Voyager, Seven always had someone close at  
hand to explain things to her, to show her "how it was done", and to guide  
her. Most of the time it had been the Captain. Other times, it was other  
members of the senior bridge crew. But now, here, she was all alone.  
There was no one to show her how to cope with this situation; no one to  
show her how to adapt.  
  
She studied her drink. A complex mixture of alochols and other synthetic  
chemicals. She glanced dubiously at the barkeep, who smiled a toothy  
Ferengi smile at her. She shuddered and pushed the drink a few inches  
away.  
  
"Am I interrupting something?" The voice was clear and articulate, but  
one she had not heard before. She turned around, and her eyes grew wide.  
  
She had not seen this person before. He now wore a command uniform, with  
Commanders rank. His pale, bloodless skin indicated to her that he was  
something other than human. That, and the way his hair grew -- jet back,  
sleek, and not a strand of it was out of place. His motions though, were  
fluid. Obviously he was meant to speak and act like a human. Her Borg  
memory filled in the gap where her human memory failed. She spoke his  
name.  
  
"Data, Commander," she said, "of the Starship Enterprise."  
"I am no longer stationed on the Enterprise," replied Data, "I am  
currently serving as first officer aboard the U.S.S. Victory."  
  
She nodded. "I am Seven of Nine." -- And then, remembering all those  
lessons the EMH doctor had given her on social etiquette -- "I am pleased  
to meet you."  
Data nodded and took the seat next to her.  
"I have been studying your logs. It appears that you have had a long  
journey, more so than the rest of the crew of Voyager."  
  
Seven of Nine returned to her drink, not wanting old wounds to be opened  
again. "I will adapt," she replied absently.  
"I have no doubt that you will," said Data, "But I was not referring to  
your ability to adapt."  
  
Seven of Nine turned to look at him. He continued:  
"It was a remarkable journey. And a very unique one. As the only one of  
my kind left functioning in the Universe, I am unique. And alone. I was  
hoping to learn from your experiences, and perhaps share that which is  
common between us."  
"I am an individual," said Seven of Nine, echoing Data's own words, "I  
am unique."  
  
Data nodded encouragingly.  
"When the Borg invaded our solar system, I had the opportunity to link  
in to the central operating system on their cube. I was able to  
experience the hive mind."  
"I am no longer Borg," said Seven of Nine heatedly. She had encountered  
several humans who had gasped upon seeing her and had declared her Borg,  
pointing at her Borg implants in horror. She was tired of it.  
  
"That is what makes your different," said Data evenly, "unique. The only  
one in the Universe. Like me."  
  
She sensed the lack of any malice in his voice. In fact, it was neutral,  
as before. Looking at his face, she saw that he was waiting for a  
response from her, his eyebrows raised slightly, listening intently. She  
relaxed. He looked eager and non-threatening. She realized that he did  
not balk from her Borg heritage. He simply wanted to learn. And perhaps,  
not be alone any longer. Like her.  
  
She let her guard down, and smiled at him. The Borg implant above her  
left eye seemed to draw attention to itself. She felt self-conscious and  
half raised a hand to it. But she stopped, and didn't cover it.  
  
Data noticed the movement. He raised his own hand, indicating the  
implant.  
"May I?" he asked.  
  
She gasped. Then nodded mutely. Data raised his fingers and touched the  
outline of the Borg technology. He traced it with his fingers, to where  
it met and molded into her skin.  
  
Seven of Nine stood up.  
"Data, " she said softly, "I want-- I would like to mate with you."  
  
  
T h e E n d  
(c) Jasjit Singh, 1999  
  



End file.
